Samuel Michaelis and the Laevatienn Thief- A Kuro parody of Percy J
by I-hate-everyone-Friday
Summary: "Look, I never wanted to be born as a half-breed. Fate just decided that. What? Sounds ridiculous? Well, what would you say if psycho fallen angels, over-working reapers, hungry demons and an angry Satan kept chasing and blaming you for something you didn't even do, huh?" A Black Butler Parody of Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief. Full summary inside.


**Samuel Michaelis & the Laevateinn Thief **

**Second try for writing a story, first time was epic fail. As you all know, this is a Black Butler Parody of Percy Jackson, and I intend to put in OCs so for those who do NOT like OC stories (no matter how good they are sometimes) then please go away.**

**So basically, this story has the same plot line as Percy Jackson, but is set in the Black Butler universe. It's about a "normal", twelve year old guy who is dyslexic and has ADHD named Samuel Michaelis, who, of course, did the usual and typical things teenagers do like playing basketball and skateboarding. That is, until he accidently devours his maths teacher's soul. After that, Samuel's world started to turn upside down, as he finds himself tumbling down in a whole new world of monsters, demons, grim reapers, angels and an angry Satan while trying to stay alive. (I'm sorry. Summary sucks, but you'll get the idea once you read this story.)**

**But just a couple of things to tell you all (if any of you are reading this that is):**

**NO YAOI OR YURI! Please, it's disgusting, and I'm trying to keep this below M but I could change it to M if you'd like. There is going to be some comedy in this so I hope you enjoy comedy and OC stuff 'cause there's going to be lots of it! Also, if some of the characters seem too Mary Sue to you, then please tell me. I'm not so sure if any of you are going to like this story, but I would be awesome if you do! I'm a beginner so sorry if I annoy any of you with my crappy writing skills. If you see anything wrong it would be great if you could tell me in the comments and I'll try to improve on that but not in a mean way please. **

**Also, I'm no good when it comes to writing the beginnings of stories, so if it seems to plain, confusing and stupid, please if you're bothered at least read a few more chapters before you give up on this. I promise it will be good!**

**And, if you're bothered, could you please comment? I wouldn't really mind how mean they are, as long as they're not too rude. Comments are nice to hear, not many people I know get them, *sigh*. If any of you hated this story, then I'm #%^* sorry that I wasted your time. Happy?**

**(Warning before you read this story: there will be swearing, some violence and slight dirty talk so kids under 10 or 11 years old shouldn't be reading this, okay? It's rated T for a reason.)**

**Oh and the paragraphs that are **_(like this)_**, are basically all the outside conversations. If you have read **_**The Red Pyramid**_**, you'll probably understand. For those who don't, let me explain. Basically, this story thing was sent by recording, so sometimes the characters would start arguing in the middle like how sometimes when you're recording your singing or whatever, there's some sort of background noise (e.g. birds chirping, some people arguing, etc.). Confusing? Don't worry, you'll understand soon. They're there for comical reasons, guys.**

**Now, let us begin!**

**(Disclaimer-I do NOT own Black Butler but Yana Toboso does and Percy Jackson is Rick Riodan's original work. I made this for mere parody entertainment. That is all.)**

**Chapter 1: I Accidently Steal My Maths Teacher's Soul**

Look, I never wanted to be born as a half breed. Fate just decided that.

If you're reading this because you believe you might be one...I'll say this once and once only; STOP READING THIS IMMEDIATELY AND ACT AS IF YOU HAVE NEVER READ THIS. Believe every lie, every story, every excuse, everything that your mom or dad tells you, no matter how ridiculous or pointless it may seem. Lead a normal life, have a normal family, act as if you're normal as everyone else. Confused? Trust me, I know what I'm talking about, I'm NOT crazy. Well, okay, not completely.

_(Just because I said that, doesn't mean you have to agree or anything, Arana.)_

Being a half breed is definitely NOT what you'll ever wish to be. It's scary, you don't know who to trust, you don't know when something can suddenly turn up to kill you and ...it can lead you to an early, painful and nasty death. Does "early" mean that you wouldn't be able to celebrate your twentieth birthday? Yes, exactly. So another advice is to party like mad whenever it's your birthday, because you never know if you don't make it until next year.

_(Finnian, shut up!)_

If you're reading this because this looks like a fun story of myths and monsters, then you're obviously not one. I truly envy you. Why? Because you're normal. Because you can just go right ahead and read this as if this is another typical fiction work of a creative author. You don't have psycho, must-kill-everything-impure fallen angels and over-working grim reapers chasing after you. Or strange urges to cause havoc and chaos. Or times when you suddenly feel weird and turn to look at the mirror, facing some sort of ugly, disgusting scary mutant demon thing and to realise it's you. You're so lucky! You don't have to face life-threatening situations...I should stop here for now or I'll end up making a series of reasons why normal people are so lucky.

But if you happen to come across things in this that has happened to you before, if some of the events or feelings apply to you, if you find yourself to be so strangely similar, stop reading. IMMEDIATELY. You might be one of us, and once you discover that, it will only take a matter of seconds for "them"to start to hunt you down.

What? Sounds too ridiculous and stupid? Seriously, I went through long lengths just to get this message to you all. If you happen to find yourself at a dead end, don't say that I never warned you.

_(What?! You really need to stop punching me! Okay, okay! I'll get on with it! So shut up, Arana!)_

This is the story of how I found out what I really was and how I managed to survive; for now, that is.

_(You're just jealous that I get to narrate this story, Arana! What? Oh come on, she's narrating too?! I thought this was supposed to be about me?! Ow! Fine! She gets to narrate some parts. But only some parts, okay, Lawrence!)_

My name is Samuel Michaelis.

I'm your average-looking, twelve year old guy (minus the eyes). Until a few months ago, I attended a private boarding school called Weston Academy; in the troubled kids campus that is.

Am I a troubled kid?

I wouldn't be hesitant to say yes.

I could begin at any point in my horrible twelve years, but things must get moving on-

_(-because _some _people are just so impatient that they can't stop hitting me Arana! Don't you know what "patience" is? You're supposed to be the smart one! Don't just go "neh-nah, neh-nah, neh" on me! I'm really, really sorry about that interruption, but it's just...UNDERTAKER! How many times have I told you before to stop putting my cats inside your handmade coffins! Finnian, stop eating that shirt! That's my mother's you know! Alois-! Just...stop twerking on my bed, _please.) **(1)**

Okay, back to what I was saying.

It all started off when we were on a field trip, to an old Victorian mansion museum.

AVictorian mansion that's over one hundred and fifty years old.

Yes, I said it. A mansion that once belonged to a family of old, superstitious dead people, now a museum for all to see.

We were going to a home museum that hasn't been occupied for over a hundred years for a field trip. Nothing unusual about twenty-eight mental case kids and two teachers on a small yellow bus (that can't even fit us all) travelling to the home of the so-called "cursed" family of the Phantomhives just to learn about the Victorians and all that history crap.

I know, it sounds like torture. Aren't most field trips like that? But my history teacher, Mr Anderson, was coming along so I knew that this trip wouldn't be boring.

Mr Anderson **(2) **was my favourite teacher in the whole academy. Well, it wasn't like there was anything to like about him. We were learning about the Victorians this semester, and he came to replace our old history teacher who was pregnant and unable to work anymore. With his frayed-tweed brown jacket, moustache, grey hair, glasses and stern- looking green-yellow eyes, he didn't look cool at all. But he was far from that. He would tell famous tales of Sherlock Holmes, the many discoveries of Great Victorian London, the Victorian's way of death and mourning, the arrival of the Chinese and Indians, the superstition, the arts and fashion, the mystery of Jack the Ripper and the dark side of the Era in such enthusiasm and detail like as if he was there at the time. Even the most boring history crap like fat Queen Victoria and the aristocrats' society sounded so awesome whenever he told us about them. He even had a real outfit of a nineteenth century undertaker and an actual gun that was once owned by a rich nobleman! And every day, Mr Anderson would give us a small but tricky crime to solve, so he was practically the only teacher who didn't send me sleeping or made me have one of my really strange urges to rip someone's head off.

I wasn't a believer or anything, but for some strange reason, as I stared out the window of the bus, I silently prayed to God to help me not mess up again this time. Okay, if I wasn't a believer, then why would I suddenly pray to God-and on a field trip? Well, you see, something bad always happened to me when it came to field trips. For example, at my fifth school when we went to a Church in honour of Queen Victoria's birthday, I accidently threw a bible I was holding at the Pope because strangely, it felt like my hand was burning off. And before that when I was in year four, our class went to this farm, we were milking the cows but when it was my turn...well, let's just say, the cow didn't live to tell the tale to her companions. And in year three, we were at the British Museum and someone had graffitied some star in a circle with somewhat familiar-looking words printed all over it and don't ask me how the hell I knew what was written on it (I didn't know what the heck it was), but I think that I must of accidently read it all out loud because a couple of Christian tourists were staring at me like I murdered someone. Makes sense now?

I did not want to stuff up like those times, and everyone I know seems to say that to pray to God whenever everything seems down. I found it all stupid seeing how many times I've done something wrong but I was so desperate to be good that I was willing enough to give it a go.

Along the way in the countryside of Britain, I was forced to put up with ginger-head whore, Matilda Simmons **(3)** who was attacking Finnian **(4)** with five-week old peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Finnie's my best mate, and an ultimate victim target to all bullies. He cried whenever he made a mistake (which was pretty much all the time), he's clumsy, looked like a girl especially with the red hair clips he wore and was naive and innocent. He had a note for PE that said that he was unable to participate because he had some muscle issues in his left arm and legs, but don't let that give you a wrong idea about him. You should've seen him when there was a food fight in the school cafeteria. He dodged every food at a ridiculously fast speed and threw tables around like he was throwing pillows.

Okay, back to what I was saying. As Matilda "the Whore" (as she was called by nearly everyone in Weston Academy) continued on pelting Finny's hair with rectangles of sandwiches, my knuckles turned more pale every time she threw a sandwich and laughed, raven-black eyebrows furrowing so deep and a familiar growl began to form in the back of my throat. I was getting that feeling again, that funny urge to just kill someone in the most brutal ways I could think of. I wanted so badly to go right over to the back of the bus where Matilda was sitting and kill her. Different methods, each more bloody and murderous than before, started to come into my mind, and I smiled every time the imaginary whore screamed and begged for mercy. I was getting determined alright, but just as I was about to step out of my seat, a hand reached out to grab mine.

"Where are you going?" my best friend asked, innocent emerald eyes staring right into my now sadistic-looking ones.

"Well, what do you think? I'm going to kill her," I hissed.

Finny shook his head at my reply.

"Don't."

I sighed. He knew about the times when I was feeling like a murderer, and knew straight away when I was in that mood.

"But- "

"You're already on probation. You do remember that, don't you?"

Yep. The principal had threatened me with an in-school-suspension execution if there were any complaints about something bad, embarrassing or stupid happened on this field trip.

Matilda Simmons continued on with the irritating game, a cat-like smile adorned her ugly, freckled face, knowing that I couldn't do anything to stop her.

"Besides," Finnian muttered. "I like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches anyway."

To prove this, he carefully took out a sticky sandwich tangled and practically glued to his blonde hair, before wiping some of the grape jelly and peanut mixture onto his finger and licked it off, ending with a fake "Mmhhmm. Yummy, yummy!"

After witnessing Finny licking the peanut butter and jelly from his finger, a couple of the girls on the bus were shrieking, "Ewwwwww! Gross!"

The damn whore crackled with witch-like laughter that sounded like a mix between a cow in labour and an old man trying to sing "Let it go" by Demi Lovato **(5)**. After a couple of minutes throughout the rest of the journey, Simmons stopped hitting my best friend with sandwiches since she was starting to get bored of him and saw that I wasn't being provoked so easily like before.

Talking about that, I now regret not beating the hell out of Matilda. I think things would have gone for a better turn if I just accepted the punishment, after all, in-school-suspension pretty much sounds like a free ticket to heaven compared to what I was about to face.

After hours passed, which felt like days, we finally arrived to our destination. Mr Anderson led the tour, telling us all different kinds of facts and questions about how the Victorian aristocrats lived and the Phantomhive family.

"Okay now class, who were the Phantomhives and what company did they own?" Mr Anderson asked the class.

A Korean girl with blonde highlights and toffee red glasses raised her hand.

"Yes, Serena? Do you know the answer?"

She opened her pink, lip gloss-coated mouth to answer the question, but no words came out. Well, she did speak, but everyone around me was talking, chewing gum, playing on their phones they sneaked in or listening to music without their earphones. I was trying hard to listen and learn as much as possible, really, I was. But every time I told the people near me to shut up, our other teacher chaperone, Mrs Midford, shot me a glare of terrifying fury.

Mrs (Frances) Midford **(6)** was my Pre-Algebra teacher, and definitely not who you would call my favourite person in the world. Old, proper, decent, navy pants suit, hair tied up in a secured bun so tight that you could barely see any blonde strands of hair poking out, she was the very definition of " mean and strict school teacher" . And as much as I hated to admit it, she was quite beautiful despite her being fifty years old with a couple of wrinkles. She had hated me with full passion on day one when she first came to Weston Academy after our old teacher had a nervous breakdown, and immediately saw Matilda as some sweet, little angel. She'd always point at my with her surprisingly slender but crooked finger at me while saying in such a sweet but stern and terrifying voice, "Now, honey...", before announcing my horrible punishment. All punishments at Weston Academy were pretty strict, but none could ever compare to Mrs Midford's. Am I exaggerating? Well how would you feel if you had to clean up the cafeteria for three whole months then, huh?

There was one time when after suffering an after-school detention of rubbing exercise books, I had told Finny that I it was impossible for her to be human, and he had stared at me like we were discussing about some crimes and mumbled, "Yep, you're definitely right about that", while completely avoiding my eyes.

As Mr Anderson continued on to talk about the portraits hanging of the walls of the Phantomhive mansion, Matilda started to snicker about some pretty disgusting stuff like how exactly did the Victorians have babies if they believed lust was sinful. I did my best to ignore it of course, however, the more she dwelled on the subject, the more disturbed I felt, along with Finnian. She had started to talk about the "manhood" when I turned my around and snapped, "Will you _shut up _for once, you fat whore!"

It came out louder than I intended.

The whole class turned to stare at me, eyes widened and giggles released from their mouths. Mr Anderson turned to look at me and stopped talking.

"Now, is there a problem with me talking, Mr Michaelis? And how am I supposedly a "fat whore"?" he asked, arms crossed over the front of his chest.

The whole group burst out laughing.

Unfortunately, because I had such a pale complexion, my scarlet face was as clear as day to everyone, making me turn redder.

"Well, I see that since you seem to think that you're apparently "too cool for school", can you tell me who this person was?" my history teacher pointed to one of the very familiar-looking people in the gold-framed portrait.

When I looked at the person Mr Anderson was talking about, I immediately felt a sigh of relief. Thankfully, I recognised the infamous Phantomhive and knew for sure that I wasn't going to make a complete fool out of myself.

"That man...is he not Earl Vincent Phantomhive?"

"Mhhmm..." he mumbled. "And what sort of person was he?"

"He was the second last head of the Phantomhive family who was in charge of the popular Funtom Company and died of unknown circumstances, right?"

Mr Anderson still didn't really look satisfied.

"Now, can you please tell me who the others are?"

"Well, the woman sitting in the chair in front of him is Rachel Phantomhive, his wife. The old butler standing beside him is their butler and as for the boy sitting in the lap of Countess Rachel..."

"Yes, please continue, Mr Michaelis."

I didn't know why, but staring at the boy was starting to creep the hell out of me, and daring to mutter his "cursed name" seemed forbidden to crawl out of my mouth. But I said it anyway.

"That is Ciel Phantomhive, the last head of the Phantomhive family."

"Correct. And what happened to his parents?"

_Uh oh_, I thought. I completely forgot about the death of the count and countess.

"Well um..." I struggled to think up the most accurate and suitable story about how they died without humiliating myself.

"They were murdered?"

"Well, duh," one kid mumbled.

"And...a business man was jealous of Earl Phantomhive because of how well the Funtom Company ran so well and his wife and son. The man was a molester and a gay pedophile..."

The boys started to laugh while the girls squealed, "EEWW!"

I continued on with my ridiculous story.

"...so he wanted to have both Rachel and her son along with the wealth of the Phantomhives so he hired some assassins to kill Vincent, however, they were stupid and thought that they needed to kill everyone consisting of the House of Phantomhive and therefore decided that it would be easier and quicker to just burn the whole mansion down. End of story."

_(Hey! I'm not as stupid as I was back then, okay? I didn't even think that that kind of information was relevant to me at the time!)_

The whole class exploded with laughter.

Mr Anderson didn't seem impressed about my answer.

Behind me, Matilda muttered to one of her friends, "Like we're ever going to need this in real life. Seriously, does he actually think that one of the questions on our job applications is going to say, _"Please explain how the Phantomhives died?"_ Is he that stupid?"

"And why," my history teacher asked me once more, "to paraphrase Mrs Simmons, do we have to know this in real life?"

"Busted!" a boy near Matilda mumbled.

"Shut up, dickhead," one of her friends defended her, as the red-haired whore's face burst into a bright red tomato.

Mr Anderson was pretty much the only teacher who caught Matilda do anything wrong. That's probably another reason why I loved him so much (as a teacher NOT in a romantic way).

I shrugged my shoulders, not sure what the answer was myself.

"I don't know, sir," I said truthfully.

"I see."

It was obvious that he was disappointed.

"Well, I must say, half credit for most of your answers. Yes, the man I pointed out is Earl Vincent Phantomhive, and the lady sitting in the chair is his wife, Rachel Phantomhive, along with their only child, Ciel Phantomhive. However, the rest of what you've just said was entirely incorrect. Let me point out the errors for you, Michaelis. First of all, you've forgot to mention the butler's name, Tanaka. Second, yes, the Funtom Company was probably the greatest of all Europe at the time and there were many who would do anything to get their greedy hands on the Phantomhive fortune, however, the mystery of who exactly the criminal was remains unknown. But for all we know, it was definitely _not _the work of a molester or pedophile."

A couple of kids started to snicker.

"It's not funny, class. I must say, there were a couple of such people in those days, you know. In fact, one nobleman _was _a molester and a homosexual pedophile who kidnapped and enjoyed sexually abusing young boys." **(7)**

"Eeeewwwwww!" everyone in my class groaned, some of the girls were holding their stomachs.

"Why else would you think prostitution became a popular job for most women then? Not only was it because of the unequal rights and respect they were given or the huge growing numbers of single, jobless women and the Industrial Revolution which destroyed many jobs, but also because back then, the high-classed society believed that the wives must act like "perfect angels" meaning that having sex was only for no reasons other than reproduction so even if the men wanted to do "it" for pleasure, they were unable to. Which is why they went for the prostitutes to satisfy their lust." **(8)**

"But how did Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive die exactly, sir?" someone asked Mr Anderson.

"Ah yes. I was getting quite off-track there, wasn't I? Well, someone had set the mansion alight with fire, as what Mr Michaelis said, however, whether assassins or known relatives and enemies did it, we may never know. After the fire happened and everyone began to search for survivors, there was no sign of the young Ciel Phantomhive. But a month later, the boy suddenly returned, along with a mysterious butler dressed in all black. Relatives, detectives, aristocrats, everyone, even the Queen herself had asked countless times who had killed his parents and where he was the whole time, but he refused to tell, and eventually, took this secret to his grave. There are many theories on who the culprit was and why he or she killed them. Some say for revenge seeing as the Queen's villainous Watchdog who stopped crimes caused by the Underworld, would most likely have many grudges against him and the Phantomhive family. Others argue that it was for the money, titles and company."

A couple of girls started to whisper to each other about how sad it was, while else some boys began to laugh and talk about you-know-what.

"We'll be talking more about that as well as Ciel Phantomhive next, however, on the happy note, it's now lunchtime. Mrs Midford, mind leading us back out for lunch?"

We followed Mrs Midford outside, some girls talked about the pedophile nobleman while clutching their stomachs, other girls gossiped on how pretty the women of the family were as well as the dresses and the rest of the female population of our class mumbled about how sad the tragedy of the second last count and countess was. All the boys on the other hand, were doing nothing useful at all; just acting like doofuses pushing each other down and exchanging illegal, inappropriate images of girls. I sighed, finding it so annoying that most guys my age were all so immature, unlike the girls.

Just as Finny and I were going to follow as well, Mr Anderson called out, "Mr Michaelis. May I have a word with you?"

Oh bloody hell. I knew that I was going to get a lecture.

My friend stared at me, almost as if asking me if it was alright to go. I tilted my head to the direction where everyone else went, indicating him to go ahead.

He stood there for a second, almost like he was hesitating. Then he left.

I turned around to face my history teacher.

"Sir? You wanted to speak to me?"

Mr Anderson had these eyes that looked so intense, eyes of a wise man that have witnessed many horrible things in the past. He was staring at me in that way.

"Samuel, there are things that you need to learn and understand."

"About the Victorians?"

Wrong answer.

"No. About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"I know."

"What you learn from me, is vitally important. I want the best and only the best from you, Samuel. And I hope you as well, understand that."

My fists clenched so tightly my somewhat naturally sharp nails dung deep into the flesh of my palms. I wanted ever so badly to punch this guy. I wanted so badly to tell him that I couldn't care less about my future. But most of all, I just wanted to get angry at him. He was cool alright, but the thing was, he wanted me to be as good as everyone else, no, he _didn't_ want me to be as good. He wanted me to be better! Like, hello?! Are you blind? I'm a kid with a dyslexic and attention deficit disorder problem here! I've never had a decent grade above –C my whole twelve years and yet he expected me to be top in every subject?! I just didn't get this guy at all.

Mr Anderson stared sadly at another portrait right next to the one we were talking about before, the portrait of a thirteen-year-old Ciel Phantomhive sitting in a chair similar to his mother's, a cute face that once wore a happy, innocent smile now displayed a frown of annoyance and anger. There was some sort of butler dude standing right beside him, but I couldn't see his face because of the darkness in the hallway we were in.

I frowned. I found it so sad that the young earl was unable to be like other boys his age. I couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like if I were him. Instead of playing games, he would be doing work. Instead of trustworthy friends he would have dangerous and powerful enemies. Instead of warm smiles and hugs, he would receive disgusted glares and strangles. Instead of kind words and moral family support, he would have been given threats and discouragement. **(9) **

I could possibly understand why Mr Anderson was looking at the portrait of the unfortunate boy as if he himself knew the child and attended his funeral.

"You can go now, Samuel," he said, still staring at the young count.

I took one look at the butler in black, thinking of what my history teacher said before.

"_A month later, the boy suddenly returned; along with a mysterious butler dressed in all black." _

I read the label underneath the portrait; and immediately felt goose bumps appearing all over my body.

I hurried out of the mansion right after that.

I didn't realise that the name would come back to haunt me again, for the rest of my life that is.

The name on the label.

The name of the butler.

_One of the very rare portraits of the "cursed" thirteen-year-old, Ciel Phantomhive and his inhumanly perfect butler of all time, __Sebastian Michaelis__._ **(10)**

The class had their lunch in an area in the garden of the mansion. Overhead, there was some storm coming in the direction where we were, clouds darker than ever before. For some reason, the weather nowadays in London seemed a bit too odd. Weather reporters assumed that it was most likely the cause of global warming. I thought so too, but I doubted it. Like, why would there be a sudden snow storm in the middle of summer? Or a huge forest fire that spreads so quickly when it just rained? Or lightning strikes that can kill anyone even though they're not carrying anything attractive to lightning?

While I was worrying about the weather, guys were throwing food at the pigeons and trying to catch them or stomp on as many ants as they could find, the girls were sitting down on the stone benches and taking selfies with the rose bushes in the background or gossiping with each other while looking through magazines they brought in and Matilda Simmons was trying to have sex with some tanned, well-built tourist guy who looked Australian. **(11)** And of course, Mrs Midford did not see a thing that was happening.

Finnian and I sat on a Victorian love seat (no, I am not gay) underneath a weeping willow tree, far away from all those weirdos so that no one knew we were actually one of them. It was quite a nice place to sit, not only were we a distance from everyone else, but there was a really pretty and peaceful view of the intricately-carved fountain surrounded by other lush green trees and bushes of ripe blood-red strawberries and different coloured roses of pastel pink, pale peach, sunset orange and sunny yellow. We sat there in deafening silence, ignoring the background noise, nibbling on our sandwiches as quietly as mice while relaxing in the peace and enjoying the view.

"Detention?" Finny asked, finally breaking the silence.

"Nah," I replied. "I just wish that Mr Anderson would just leave me alone. Like, does he think a dyslexic, ADHD kid like me with grades below +D could just suddenly become Einstein in just a night?"

"Mhm."

I thought my best friend was probably going to give me some deep philosophical comment to comfort me, but all he did was return to being infected with silence, so did I. We were like that for a while until Matilda and her ugly prostitute friends suddenly appeared out of nowhere right in front of us, blocking our wonderful view like a piece of bloody liver blocking the view of a five-star French dessert. No really, I'm not exaggerating. At least three or four of her friends were prostitutes. I guess she got tired of trying to seduce the Aussie tourist.

"Wanna see my new lacy panties?" she sneered, leaning in her disgusting face –too close- to mine, crooked and slightly yellow teeth glistening like a pirate.

"Urgh, _no_ Matilda. How about... when pigs fly?"

She huffed, annoyed, and stood straight up again (oh gosh, you don't know how relieved I was!), frowning. Then she noticed Finny and her mischievous grin came back.

My instincts were screaming out to me, _Protect Finny now!_

But before I could do anything to stop her, she "accidently" spilt a bottle of orange juice in his lap, staining his khaki shorts.

"Oops." She said in her best innocent-sounding, unapologetic voice. "It seems to me that your little friend over there had a little "accident" there. What are you gonna do about that now, smarty pants?"

Her friends started to shriek with witch-like laughter, as well as herself. Finnian looked like he was going to burst into tears.

I tried to stay cool. I tried to keep the straight "I don't give a fuck or a two" face. The school counsellor repeated many times to me to count to ten, to control my anger and think about happy things. But I didn't want to think of happy things. I wanted to

KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL,KILL KILL, KILL, KILLKILLKILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL,KILL,KILL, KILLKILL, KILLKILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILLKILL, KILL, KILLKILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL, KILL,KILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILL!

You know those times whenever you're at a swimming pool and you're about to take a big leap off of the jumping board but you're feeling nervous? But then you jump anyway and suddenly you don't even know what's happening? Like as if you don't even exist? Like you died? Like someone switched you off? Or when you're watching a movie in a really dark room and you're attached to it but then suddenly the screen turns black and so does everything else? **(12)**

That's exactly how it felt, and when the world returned into my eyes again and my mind snapped back into reality, I found Matilda up in the willow tree, all tangled up in the willow vines, screaming and shouting hysterically. Her eyes were so wide open I could probably only see her white sclera and the very little clothing she had were all ripped up into shreds, so she looked like some mummy or bride of Frankenstein, but scarlet cuts and purple bruises covered her body instead.

Everyone was now staring, but to make things worse, other visitors and tourists were staring as well. The immediate reaction was taking videos or photos, but the thing that I didn't like at all was what they were saying.

"Did you just see that?"

"The way how all the crows just suddenly appeared-"

"When Samuel started to scream-"

"And the crows grabbing at her clothes and scratching and hitting her-"

"And the willow vines-"

"It was like they had a mind of their own.."

Crows? Me? Screaming? Willow vines having a mind of their own? Wait-crows?

I looked up, and in horror, found myself facing a whole flock of pitch-black crows just sitting there on top of the tree, staring right back at me. Matilda stopped struggling and shrieking for a moment, only to be faced by the biggest and scariest crow there, that somewhat seemed to smiling at her. I know it's impossible for crows to smile. But this one definitely did.

It began to craw in such a high-pitch voice, like as if it were taunting her, before spreading its ridiculously huge-span wings and flew away. Eventually the rest of the completely black flock crackled as well, and flew off away into the sky, out of everyone's reach.

Everyone was plagued with an awkward and scary silence. I didn't know what to do. I was so confused, but kind of happy that red-haired whore got what she deserved.

I didn't even realise I was smiling, until she saw me, pointed her fat finger and screamed, "Samuel did this! See, look at him, he's smiling! Smiling I say! He's...he's the Devil's child!"

Mrs Midford materialized next to me.

I knew what I was in for again.

After making sure that Matilda was alright, got the right medical treatment, promised to let her borrow her jacket, excreta, excreta, excreta, she whipped her head around to me. There was war of blazing crimson fire in her eyes, and I knew that I wasn't stupid to fear her.

"Now honey-"

"I'm sorry, I really am! I'll pay for it! Everything! I'll...I'll pay for the medical bills, pay for new clothes, pay for everything!"

I really hurt my own pride saying that, especially right in front of Matilda, who was smiling. Probably imagining that I'll be buying her a whole wardrobe of prostitute outfits and underwear. But I was a total gentleman (according to my mother), I really was sorry in a way, and besides, I had a feeling that's what my maths teacher wanted to hear.

But no, she had other plans for me. Plans that were much worse.

"Come with me." Mrs Midford snapped.

Matilda's face dropped. She saw as well that what I said wasn't going to be the punishment. Well, I guess that was good bye to new slutty outfits and underwear.

"Wait!" Finny screamed out to her. "It was me! I-I was the one! I have a whistle! A whistle that attracts crows! See!"

Like he said, he pulled out some pipe flute thing and waved it around madly.

I stared at him, stunned by his courageous act. Why was he covering for me? I was scared of our Pre-Algebra teacher alright, but he was terrified of her.

She turned her head and stabbed Finny with the look of the Devil, and he trembled dangerously.

"Please stay out of this, Mr Green."

"But-"

"You. Will. Stay. Here."

She paused.

"UNDERSTOOD!"

My friend looked at me pleadingly, probably hoping that I will blame him as well.

But I wasn't going to let him take a blame that he didn't even deserve.

"It's alright. I'm fine, really." I comforted him.

He wasn't convinced.

"Honey...NOW!" she barked.

Matilda smirked.

I gave her my meanest, extra-deluxe "I'll-kill-you" look, and all the sudden; she cowered, eyes going wildly wide and whimpering. I was satisfied, but kind of confused. I didn't think she would react that way. But I pushed that thought away and turned to face Mrs Midford. She wasn't there. I looked up, and saw her right at the entrance, tapping her foot impatiently.

How the hell did she get up there so quickly?

No, I thought, it's just part of my ADHD like the counsellor said. I had moments like that, when my brain falls asleep or something and the next thing I know, I've just missed out a whole chuck of something, like a puzzle piece flew out of the world and I'm stuck, just staring at the empty space. **(13)**

But I wasn't positive about that.

As I continued to make my way to where she was, I glanced back where Finny was, who was looking back and forth from me to Mr Anderson, who was sitting back in a bench, absorbed into his paperback novel (I think the book was Twilight by Stephanie Meyer). **(14)**

By the time I was somewhere near the entrance, I looked up once again to see Mrs Midford, who had completely disappeared into the mansion museum after checking I was following her. I continued to catch up to her, but she kept on increasing her speed. Deeper and deeper she went into the old mansion, so did I. It was all like a blur, people, portraits, doors and walls, they were all the same.

By the time she stopped, I realised we were in a completely empty bedroom. My maths teacher whipped around to face me, arms crossed over her chest.

"Samuel, do you know what room this is?"She asked in such a calm, monotone voice.

Oh my god, really? I thought. What was it with all the questions and me today?

"I'll ask you once more, Samuel Michaelis. What is this room?"

"Urgh...a bedroom?"

"I already know that. Now tell me, what is this room?"

"I don't-!"

I paused. Something popped into my mind.

"This room...it's...where Abraham Phantomhive, Vincent's father, died. And that bed, it's his deathbed." **(15)**

"That is correct. And do you know how he died?"

I try to think back to my history lessons.

"Um...no one really ever knew. They said that he suddenly passed out, and when they put him in bed, he started to tell his last wishes and that everyone had to stay out of the room until they saw a black cat walked out. Everyone was confused, but did exactly what he said, and a couple of hours later, just like he said, a black cat walked out of his room. They entered the room only to discover him dead." **(16)**

"Yes. But I believe there is more to that," Mrs Midford merely replied, but there was a slight hint of impatience and anger in her voice.

"I really don't know either ma'am!" I snapped. "And why are you asking me these questions all the sudden? Didn't you bring me here to discuss about my behaviour?"

Thunder shook violently outside, creating shadows on her face which made her look even more furious and terrifying.

"You've been causing us problems, honey."

"Yes, I have been, miss," I mumble in reply. That was the safest thing to say, at the time that is.

"Samuel Michaelis, do you think of us all as fools? Honestly, thinking you're as smart and invincible as your father. How pathetic."

I scrunched up my face into a look of confusion, and Mrs Midford did not look anymore happier than a grumpy gnome. I didn't understand why my father was even involved in this. Hell, I didn't even know who he was or if he's dead!

"Well? Confess, and you'll suffer less than you are about to right now."

"Mrs Midford, I honestly don't understand what you're even talking-"

"Prepare to be reaped, honey!"

Right at that moment, her eyes changed into some green-yellow colour as she pulled out some sort of enormous pole out of the inside of her jacket, which slowly revealed to have a long, curved blade and sung it at me.

I don't know what happened, but I found myself balancing on top of a nude statue far away from Mrs Midford. She snarled, before lunging at me once more.

Just when I thought that things couldn't possibly (and hopefully) not get any stranger, a familiar and gruffy voice shouted, "Samuel! Look over here! Now! Before it's too late!"

I turned my head around to see who the owner of the voice was. Bad mistake.

My used-to-be-maths-teacher sliced the statue in half from its waist with her weapon, making me fall on the midnight blue carpet along with the top-half of the goddess statue.

"Die, honey!" she snarled, before raising the scythe-looking weapon up into the air and sung it down on me.

I shut my eyes as tightly as I could, waiting for the sharp pain of the blade. This was it, I thought. This was the end for me.

It wasn't.

Everything happened in a quick blur. I saw Mr Anderson appear right in front of me, standing right between me and Mrs Midford.

"Get out of my way, mortal!" she snapped angrily.

But he didn't listen to her.

Instead, he turned around to get a good look at me, before holding up a large, round talisman in my face that had a familiar-looking symbol, glowing bright cerise pink.

"Samuel," he muttered. "Wake up."

And just like that, something strange ticked at the back of my mind, as if someone had switched on a button that hadn't been used in years.

I don't really remember any of the details, but right after Mr Anderson safely jumped out of the way, I immediately lunged at my maths teacher, long claws suddenly grabbing onto her shoulder.

"Wha-what?" she stammered, green-yellow eyes widened at the sight of scarlet staining her navy jacket from the claws stabbing into her flesh.

My other hand grabbed a handful of her blonde hair,

Before I pulled with such strong force

Before crimson liquid splattered everywhere

And before I realised I just ripped Mrs Midford's head right off of her body.

I could still hear her terrified shrieking ringing in my ears, leaving an evil chill in the atmosphere.

Don't ask, but I thought that I swallowed a glumpful of air or something. It felt slippery and watery in my throat like a fat worm entered in, and for the first time, I felt full. I always felt hungry, and no matter how much I ate, I still stayed starving and skinny. Great, just great, I thought. Now I was probably going to pass out air when I went to the toilet.

I looked around the room to see if anyone witnessed this crazy event.

But I was alone.

There was sawdust in my hands.

And a pile of yellow powder on the floor.

Mr Anderson wasn't there.

Nobody was, just me, myself and I.

Ok, I seriously did not get what the heck just happened to me.

I walked back out again, wondering whether or not I imagined the whole thing.

Outside, it had started sprinkling, then a sudden heavy downpour hit on everyone. Crowds of people began to huddle with each other under the shelter of the mansion's roof, far away from the attacking rain. I swore that I was seeing weird, colourful, glowing orbs on everyone's chest.

As I started to huddle with the rest, I bumped into Matilda.

"I hope Mr Wordsmith kicked your ass off, crow boy!" she snapped at me.

_Mr Wordsmith? _**(17)**

"Who the hell is Mr Wordsmith?" I asked her, genuinely confused and curious.

She rolled her eyes at me like I was the one not making any sense.

"Our Pre-Algebra teacher? Mr Arthur Wordsmith? Who came as a replacement for Miss Keen? Don't you know _anything_?"

"But our maths teacher is Mrs Midford!"

She just stared at me as if she were staring at a hobo strip-dancing.

"The hell is wrong with you, Samuel?" she said, before walking far away from me like I was contagious.

I thought that she was playing some kind of prank to get back at me. But I needed to make sure that I was correct before I jumped to any wrong conclusion.

My immediate action was to go find Finny.

When I finally found him, I asked him where Mrs Midford was.

He paused at first, and stammered in reply, "Who's she?"

It was obvious he was lying. So it would probably mean that it was a prank.

Thunder boomed and lightning stroke, as I continued to go to one person and another, asking the same question over and over. But they all gave me the same reaction as Matilda.

"Who the hell are you talking about?"

"Is she your old teacher from your other school or something?"

"Our Pre-Algebra teacher is Mr Wordsmith, idiot! We've been having him since the beginning of the year!"

Yep, everyone was doing a pretty good job of acting alright. The only person who could answer this was Mr Anderson.

I made my way to him, who was still reading Twilight. He looked just about finished, as if he was here this whole time.

"Sir..." I stated. "Where is Mrs Midford?"

He looked up from his book and stared at me blankly. "Who?"

"The other chaperone!" I snapped impatiently. "Our Pre-Algebra teacher!"

He frowned and put a firm hand on my forehead, looking quite concerned.

"Hmm...It does seem like you have a fever."

"I'm perfectly fine! Why won't you answer my question! Where's Mrs Midford!"

"Samuel, there is no Mrs Midford on this trip. For all I know, there was never a Mrs Midford in Weston Academy. Is everything alright?"

**Dun, dun, duuuuun!**

**What's going on? Why does no one remember Mrs Midford? Is it really a prank? Or what? Find out, next time:**

**Triplets Knit the Underwears of Death!**

**Dun, dun, duuuuuuun!**

**So, did you enjoy this? I hope you did, and I don't know what else to say.**

**(1)- You'll find out who most of these characters are, what part they play in **_**Samuel Michaelis and**__**The Laevatienn Thief**_** and why they're there.**

**(2)- I think most of you who have watched **_**Kuroshitsuji Season 2 Ova 6 The story of William**__**T. Spears**_** would know which character Mr Anderson is. But for those who don't, I used Lawrence Anderson from that OVA who is a retired grim reaper that makes spectacles. You'll find out a bit more about him throughout the story.**

**(3)- Yes, I used Matilda Simmons the slutty nun from the "nun scene". What? She was just perfect for that role. Also, this is a parody, so I did base her personality for this of what everyone in the Black Butler Fandom think of her (notice how I said that she was trying to have sex with a random tourist and was called by everyone "the whore"). Though, I was going to make Nancy in this parody Grell, I decided against it and went for Matilda Simmons instead.**

**(4)- I couldn't help but put cute little Finny in this parody! He was perfect for the role! I was originally going to have Ronald Knox as this parody's Grover, but then I changed my mind.**

**(5)- Yes, I know. I put in the dreaded and sickening "Let it Go" song in this. But in the original Percy Jackson story, did you know the part where Percy goes to the Empire State Building, the security guard there was reading "a huge book with a picture of a wizard on the front cover", Rick Riodan was referring to Harry Potter? This was his way of showing how the book was in the modern times and showed modern, typical culture for us to understand the time setting. I wanted to do the same for this story as well, and since Frozen was pretty much world-widely famous as Harry Potter, I put it in. Besides, one time when I was surfing Youtube because I was bored, I came across this video where someone recorded their grandfather attempting to sing "Let it Go", and let's just say, the sound was probably how an awful, high-pitched witch laugh would be made from. You can't see the video now; it was like deleted two weeks later after the old man found the video on Youtube. **

**(6)- For those who haven't read the manga of Black Butler, Frances Midford is Elizabeth's mother, Ciel's aunt and Vincent Phantomhive's sister. I put her in seeing how strict, teacher-like she is so I put her in. Also, she hates Sebastian so much it made sense she would hate Samuel as well.**

**(7)- I believe that we all know who this "molester and homosexual pedophile who enjoyed sexually abusing young boys" is. For those who don't know, I'm talking about the late Earl Trancy from Black Butler, Season 2.**

**(8)- It's actually true. Prostitution really did become a very popular job for women in the Victorian Era. There were a lot of reasons why:**

**First would be about the sexist beliefs of the Victorians. One reason for the distaste to women was because of how in the bible, Eve (the first/second woman created by God) believed in the deceiving serpent/snake and convinced Adam (the first man) to eat the fruit from the tree when God forbade them to. That is why, according to Christians and people who believe in God, women are the ones to give birth and all that crap because "that was punishment from God". Well, that was the reason why for a very long time people thought that, however, the Victorians took sexism to the next level. To them, women were nothing but a reproduction machine especially to the aristocrats, which was another vital reason for families to not only have sons, but daughters as well for business and money causes. They also believed women were only to do no jobs other than being maids, cooking, sewing, housework and taking care of children. Well, there were also able to become governesses and nurses but they had to be trained properly which most didn't bother because of reasons I'm talking to you about. That is why women tried to get married as soon as possible, because they needed a man to live off of. However, the problem was, most of the people weren't able to get enough money for a living that they could barely feed themselves, none the less a family (and at the time, at least around five or more children were born between one parent). So men tried to not get married at all, leaving at least two thirds of the population of women unmarried with no money. There were those who were lucky enough to get a decent job or husband, but for the rest, there was only one option-prostitution. **

**Like I said, the nobles and priests believed that sex was only for reproduction causes, not for pleasure. As many (rich) men at the time became even more perverted and curious about women, single jobless ladies found that the more rich the person paying you to have sex with you was, the more likely you were going to get more money than a governess would.**

**The population of females was too large, larger than the population of men. So there wouldn't be any men left for at least two thirds of the female population. Do remember how I mentioned that men preferred not to marry at all.**

**Orphan girls. As well as not wanting to get married and be responsible for feeding at least eight or ten mouths, men did often have sex (for lustful reasons) or rape women. As a matter of fact, with no "manhood protection" invented at the time, the unfortunate women did get pregnant. Abortion was expensive, and many died after operation, so the only thing to do was keep the baby before dumping it. Most of those orphans were sent to the Foundling Hospital (a hospital for orphans where they are raised and trained to become soldiers and maids), however, some mothers did not care for their children that much to bother sending them to the Foundling Hospital, and left them to die or fend for themselves. Most of the male orphans would become thieves and murderers or probably offer to be soldiers and chimney cleaners. But the female orphans were only left with becoming servants (where it was most likely they would be sexually harassed by their owners), selling flowers or prostitution. The youngest prostitute was only nine and three quarters!**

**Industrial Revolution. It may have been the time of when new and great inventions were made and discovered, but it was as well as the time when jobs were taken away for the men so...yeah. You get what I'm saying, right?**

**(9)- This is actually what one of my friends, who recently just watched the entire Season 1 of Black Butler said to me. And this is what I feel about him as well.**

**(10)- I think you all know who plays as my parody Poseidon, right? **

**(11)- Just another reference to what a slutty whore that b*tchy nun is. And also to a reference to how everyone stereotypes Australians. No, they are NOT all tanned, blonde, wear bikinis as underwear (no really, this was what someone who didn't live in Australia asked me) or wear thongs even in winter. That's just like saying that all Black Butler fans are yaoi fans! I'm like, FULL-ON OBBESSED in Black Butler alright, and I'm obviously a really big fan, but I HATE yaoi! It's disgusting to me, and I know others who are big fans of Kuroshitsuji who absolutely HATE yaoi like I do. There's even this girl on deviantart who's a fan of Black Butler who likes YURI not yaoi (she ships Meyrin and Nina Hopkins). No offence to people who like yaoi, that is. So please, do NOT think of an Australian person as a tanned blondie that wears thongs and goes around, saying things like "G'day mate!" No, that's only how the outback/country people of Australia say, not the rest.**

**(12)- That description of everything going completely blank to Samuel actually happened to me once. I was at the swimming pool and decided to try jumping off of those really high diving boards, but when I went up, I was REALLY scared, like my knees turned to complete jelly. I always watched movies and TV shows and thought how stupid the people who try out those diving boards were too scared to jump, but I understood the feeling right at that moment. My sister, being the selfish and impatient b*tch she was, actually THREATENED to push me off and onto the concrete if I didn't jump, so I did in panic and that was how it felt. I completely forgot everything, it was all black and it was as if I died or never existed. Until I splashed into the water that is. That was when my mind returned. I can now actually jump off without any hesitation.**

**(13)- Unfortunately, this is one of the horrible side effects of ADHD. I don't have it or anything, but one of Rick Riodan's sons has it. Apparently, he and his wife found out that his youngest son had ADHD and was dyslexic which made him struggle with schoolwork and fall behind everyone else, despite how hard he tried. That was how Percy Jackson was born, in honour of Rick's son who commented that he should publish it. He did just that and VOILA! Bam! Best-seller!**

**(14)- I put in Twilight for two reasons:**

**For comical reasons, so that you would all laugh at the thought of a old male teacher reading a teen romance novel.**

**As part of popular culture.**

**I was planning to put in "The Fault in our Stars" as his reading choice, but I decided against it for reasons I just explained.**

**(15)- I made this part up for reasons you'll find out sooner or later.**

**(16)- Same thing as what I just said before.**

**(17)- For those of you again who haven't read the manga, this is Arthur Wordsmith, a writer who comes out in the Phantomhive Murder Case Arc. He's going to come out in the Season 3 OVA, The Book of Murder.**

**And that's all for today, folks! Bye, bye!**

_**I-hate-everyone-Friday**_


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